It's Been A Long, Long Time
by RobotRollCall
Summary: The Infinity Stones are back in place, and now, after far too long, it's time for Steve to come home. He may be late, but he and Peggy finally get their dance.


_A/N: It's been a while since Endgame came out, but, oh! That ending still gives me all kinds of feelings. It was beautiful. It was so short, though, so, here's a longer version of how it might have played out._

* * *

Once Steve had realized that going back to Peggy was possible, he'd always meant to go back in time for their date—the Stork Club, Saturday, eight o'clock on the dot. He'd gotten all the Infinity Stones back to just the right times, but he'd had exact coordinates for that, since people had already been there. 1945 was a new one, and though he'd paid attention to how Tony had picked out the new coordinates when they made their second attempt at the Tesseract, he'd gotten something wrong. Because he was at a bus stop, and there was a newspaper in the trashcan that said it was 1948. God help him, it was 1948. He was three years late.

But he was still here, and it was still the right place, and he'd started walking and now Steve was standing on the sidewalk across the street from her house. He'd been dreaming about this moment for eleven years, and yet he couldn't make himself get any closer. When he'd seen his picture on her desk in 1970, that had been when the idea of coming back had started forming in his mind—he'd never been able to let her go, no matter how hard he tried, and the picture suggested that she hadn't been able to let him go either. But what if he'd made a mistake? What if she didn't want him there? What if he'd changed too much? In this moment, back in this world he'd been torn away from, he felt a profound sense of homecoming, like he was finally back where he belonged. But eleven years was a long time. What if she took one look at him and decided he wasn't the man she knew after all?

He drew in a deep breath, stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, and forced himself to step down into the street. He'd only travelled seventy-five years to get here. Was he really going to walk away without even trying because he was scared?

On her porch now, and he took a moment to gather his courage again, listening to the soft music he could hear coming through the door. She was home from work, maybe cooking dinner, and Steve could imagine her swaying to the music and humming to herself like she used to do in her office when she didn't think anyone was watching. He lifted one hand to knock and paused again, his knuckles inches from the wood. Should he really just show up like this? He should have called, or contacted her through the S.S.R., or…or something. This was a lot to throw at somebody all at once. His hand stopped in the air halfway through the act of returning to his pocket. He was late. She thought he'd been dead for three years. It was going to be a lot no matter which way she found out. He lifted his hand again and rapped sharply on the wood before he could talk himself out of it again.

He could hear footsteps approaching, then there was her silhouette, blurry through the frosted glass window, but there was enough light for him to see the dark of her hair and the red of her dress. She'd always looked great in red. He took a deep breath as the doorknob turned, and then there she was. She yelped in surprise and dropped the teacup she was holding, and the shattering of the porcelain across the porch made him realize he was just standing there staring and snapped him out of it.

"Hi, Peggy," he said.

She was staring at him with wide eyes like she was looking at a ghost, then the next thing Steve knew, her hand had grabbed his collar and spun him inside the house and against the wall, and something that might have been a letter opener was pressed up against his throat.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

* * *

Peggy was pouring herself a cup of tea, wondering what she should make for dinner, when there was a knock at the door. She moved forward, taking a sip of her tea and trying to see who it was through the frosted glass panel. The sun was just starting its journey down for the evening, shining brightly behind whoever it was and reducing them to nothing but an uneven grey shape. Perhaps it was Eileen from across the street. The woman was forever forgetting to buy eggs, and was always coming over to borrow some from Peggy. At Peggy's count, she was owed eight eggs at some point in the future—the number had been higher yesterday before Eileen's son had run over with a carton of them for her.

Peggy took another sip of her tea and opened the door, then yelped in surprise and dropped her teacup. She barely registered the sound of the porcelain splintering across the porch. Right. Not Eileen, then. Standing on her porch, outlined in the late afternoon sunlight and practically glowing gold, looking hopeful and frightened and a bit sheepish, was Steve Rogers.

"Hi, Peggy," he said softly.

She was just staring at him with her mouth open, but his voice broke the spell. It certainly sounded and looked like him, but Steve was dead, had been dead for a long time, and fury roared up in her chest that Hydra or Leviathan or whoever the hell this was would dare to try something like this. She grabbed his collar and whirled him inside and against the wall, snatching up a letter opener from the table by the door as she did so and pressing it against his throat. He was certainly solid enough, so she wasn't dreaming or hallucinating, but that only meant this was some sort of trick and she wasn't having it.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

Instead of pushing her away or trying to fight, he simply held his hands up against the wall in a gesture of surrender. "Peggy, it's really me," he said, and oh, that voice was so soft and sincere and sounded so much like him, it took far more strength than it should have not to drop the blade. "It's really Steve."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No, it—" She swallowed down the waver in her voice, refusing to let whoever this was know how much they were getting to her. "Steve Rogers died three years ago. I don't know what the hell you're playing at, but you can't be him."

"I know, I'm sorry, but it really is me."

"Prove it," she said. She wasn't sure how he could, but she wanted to see what he would try.

He nodded, carefully, in deference to the blade still at his throat. "Okay," he said. He smiled. "The first time I saw you, I was about a foot and a half shorter, and there were a bunch of us in the running for Erskine's project. This one guy, um, Hodge, that was his name, Hodge was being a jerk to you, and you punched him in his smart mouth and knocked him flat in the dirt." His smile widened. "I remember thinking then that you were my kind of girl."

Peggy remembered that, but she didn't loosen her grip on the letter opener. Other people had been there then, they could remember it too.

"Then later," he went on. "After I got picked, the two of us were riding to that lab under the antique store for the experiment, and I made a complete fool of myself asking why a beautiful girl like you would want to be in the Army. Then I did it again later talking about fondue and you took a shot at me."

She couldn't help smiling, just a little bit, at that.

"There was one mission in Norway," he went on. "Where you came with us to help with an informant we were meeting. It was the middle of the night and I had watch, and you came and sat next to me and said you couldn't sleep. We talked for a while and eventually you told me that it was the anniversary of the day your brother died, and you had too much going on in your head to sleep. We sat there until sunrise and you told me all about him." He smiled softly. "You said when you were kids, he would call you 'Pip' because he said you were just a pipsqueak."

Peggy's breath caught in her throat and she loosened her grip on his collar. She remembered that night. Ever since taking that first S.O.E. post, she'd never told anyone about her brother, keeping her emotions to herself so no one would think she was too weak to handle the job. Steve had been surprised to learn that she'd even had a brother, but by then she'd known him well enough to feel she could trust him with painful memories. He'd let her talk, asking questions to draw more out of her when it felt as though she'd run out of words, and it had been such a relief to let it all out, to know that she wasn't the only one keeping Michael's memory now. It had been just the two of them sitting there, Steve's arm wrapped around her shoulders. No one else…There was no way anyone else could have known that.

He smiled again, that way that Steve always smiled at her that made her heart start to flutter. "I remember that you always kept a mystery novel in your desk to read when you should have been doing reports," he said. "I remember you always called me an uncultured colonist for drinking my tea without milk in it, and I remember whenever American candy would come in the mail, you always pretended you didn't like the red jellybeans because you knew they were my favorite."

The hand holding the letter opener slid down from his throat, resting on his chest. It was…He was really…

"I remember," he said, smiling sadly. "That the first time you kissed me was the last time I saw you. You kissed me like our lives depended on it, and Peggy…" His voice was wavering just a little bit, but he was still smiling. "Sometimes dreaming about that kiss was all that got me through not having you with me." He finally moved, one hand coming up to rest over the one that was still at his collar. "Do I need to keep going?" he asked gently.

The letter opener clattered to the floor. "Steve?" she breathed. It was him, it was really him! How, she didn't know, but it was him and he was alive and he was here!

He smiled, that beautiful smile that felt like sunshine. "Guess I should have called first."

She laughed, something breathy and slightly hysterical that might have been closer to a sob, and reached her hands up to touch his face. "You're alive," she whispered. She could feel his skin, so soft and warm under her fingers, the bones of his cheeks so solid and real, and his pulse thumping in his neck, pounding out a rhythm that was so very alive.

He slid his arms around her, pulling her against his chest tightly in a warm embrace. "So are you," she heard him whisper into her hair.

Joy bubbled up in her chest and she laughed this time for real, because this was no trick, no dream. This was Steve, her Steve, alive and whole and finally come back to her, and tears started to blur her vision, but not before she looked up and saw them pooling in his eyes too.

* * *

"You're alive!" Peggy said again, and she flung her arms around his neck and pulled herself up to kiss him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her up and kissed her back. He hadn't seen her, hadn't touched her in such a long time, and he'd lost her twice—once in 1945 and then again for good (he'd thought) in 2016, but she was here and alive and in his arms again and he kissed her with all the desperation, the longing, the sorrow and the joy that was bursting inside his soul.

When they finally had to breathe, he set her feet back on the floor and she pulled away, her hands still clenched in his collar as though she was afraid to let go of him. Steve, who was still holding her close against his chest, understood the feeling.

"What are you doing here?" she asked at last, then blushed, as though she'd meant for the question to come out differently.

Steve laughed softly, raising one hand to tuck a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. "I owed you a dance," he told her, cupping her cheek and kissing her gently. Tears pooled in his eyes again at the way she smiled up at him. "I'm so sorry I'm late."

"Better late than never," she said softly. She let go of his collar and slid her hands down to take his. "Come on." She took a few steps back, leading him into the living room, and Steve followed gladly. A new song started on the record that had been playing, and she looked up at him with a smile. "Something slow. As promised."

He pulled her in against him again. "I'll try not to step on your feet," he said softly.

She rested her head on his chest and sighed happily. "You came back to me. You could step on them until they turned blue, and I won't complain."

"_Never thought that you would be standing here so close to me—There's so much I feel that I should say…_"

Steve swallowed down a sudden lump in his throat as the words drifted over from the record player, and he closed his eyes and leaned down, resting his head against Peggy's. Her hair was soft and smelled faintly of lavender, a scent he remembered, one he'd caught on the air in moments halfway between dreaming and waking. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, her hand soft and warm in his and her arm snug around his waist, and she fit against him as if he'd been missing a piece of himself all his life and now he was whole.

Never…He'd never thought this was a chance he would ever get. To have her so close again, so real, and there _was_, there was so much he should say, so much he had to tell her.

"_But words can wait until some other day…_"

They _could_ wait. Because now, now, for the first time in their lives, they had all the time in the world. Steve had so much to tell her, but he didn't have to say any of it right now. He just had to hold her. To hold her close and let it sink in that he was really here, with her. She raised her head, looking up at him with happy tears in her eyes, and he knew in that moment that she was whole again too. He smiled back—didn't think he would ever stop smiling—and leaned in and kissed her gently, trying to tell her everything he didn't have the words for. The words could wait. Except for three of them. He had to say three of them now, because he should have said them a long, long time ago.

He pulled back enough to look her in the eyes, those beautiful hazel eyes that glowed like amber, and he smiled. "Peggy Carter," he said softly. "I love you."

* * *

The world came to a stop, her living room, the music playing, and everything around her fading away into a warm, white glow, everything but Steve holding her close against him and the words he just said. Peggy had known that, known it for a long time, but he'd never said it, and now he had and she didn't think she could speak over the joy swelling up inside her. She blinked away the tears pooling in her eyes and stretched up on her toes to kiss him again, kissing him with all the passion and pain and hope blazing in her soul. She let out a stuttering breath when she pulled back, staring up into those beautiful shining blue eyes.

"Oh, Steve," she whispered. "I love you too."

If she'd thought his smile was beautiful before, it was positively radiant now, and he pulled her in to lean against him again and rested his head on hers, sighing happily into her hair. They just held each other then, swaying softly to the music and simply reassuring one another that they were both there. He was back. She didn't understand how, nor did she really care, just as long as he was here. Because he was real. She could feel his heart beating where she rested her head against his chest, and it was strong and steady and _alive_. He was here. He'd come back to her. That was what mattered.

"_You'll never know how many dreams I dreamed about you…Or just how empty they all seemed without you…_"

Oh, but the song didn't even begin to cover it! Even when she'd been trying so hard to move on, there had been so many dreams that filled her with just enough hope to feel like a knife to the heart when she woke. So many chances she never thought she'd get. So many things she should have said before he left…

She looked up at him again as the song ended. He was smiling warmly down at her as though he couldn't get enough, like some deep wound had finally healed, and Peggy knew exactly how he felt. The wound that his death had carved deep into her own soul, stuck back together with bits of tape and string these past three years, it was finally mended now too.

He shook his head with a smile, as though he still couldn't believe it. "I never…" he began, then swallowed down the waver in his voice. "I never thought I would see you again."

"I thought I'd lost you too," she replied, her own voice still not exactly steady. "How did you…" Howard had searched the ocean for months without a trace. And here he was, alive and without a scratch on him. "How are you here?"

He huffed a laugh. "That…" He sighed. "That is a very long story."

She smiled. "I'll make us some tea, then, shall I?"

He laughed again, though his cheeks were faintly pink. "Sorry about your teacup," he said, nodding back in the direction of the front door.

She laughed at that, perhaps a bit louder than she should have, but the absurdity of worrying about a teacup when he'd just come back from the dead was one of the funniest things she'd ever heard. "It's alright," she told him. "I have more."

He smiled, and let go of her reluctantly as she moved to put the kettle back on to boil. She kept looking up, afraid he would disappear if she lost sight of him for too long, and the ten seconds where he moved to the door and crouched down to pick up the broken pieces of porcelain and was hidden from view by one of the armchairs were the longest ten seconds of her life. She felt a bit silly at the sigh of relief she let out when he stood back up and shut the door, though the way he kept staring at her as he moved to drop the pieces in the bin made her feel less so.

"I'm sorry; I'm staring," he said, his cheeks coloring a bit as their eyes met for the thirtieth time in as many seconds. "I just…"

"I'm not going to disappear," she told him. "Though I'm still afraid you might."

He stepped closer and took one of her hands. "I won't if you won't."

"Alright," she agreed.

* * *

Steve had to let go of her hand when the water boiled and she moved to fill the teacups. She turned back to him with a teacup in her hands, smiling almost shyly up at him. "Two sugars and no milk, right?" she asked, as if she was worried she'd gotten it wrong.

Steve grinned and took the cup. "Just the way I like it."

A little flicker of relief danced across her face and she turned back to pick up her own cup. Steve lifted the cup and closed his eyes for a second, inhaling the rich scent of the tea—it was the same kind she'd always made in the S.S.R. offices, and a swirl of memories came rushing back with the aroma.

"Now," she said, taking his free hand in hers and leading him to the sofa. They sat down facing each other, close enough for their knees to touch. "Tell me this long story of yours."

Steve nodded, taking a long sip of his tea as he tried to figure out where to start. "Well," he said at last. "I guess it goes without saying that I survived the crash."

"It would seem to, yes," Peggy agreed with a smile. Oh, he loved that smile!

"I hadn't thought that I would," he said. "To be honest, I…I'm still not really sure how I did." Sure, Fury's doctors had had their theories, and they all agreed that the serum in his blood had something to do with it, tossing around phrases like 'suspended animation', but no one had ever figured out exactly how it happened.

"We were looking for you, you know," Peggy said. "There were airplanes and ships and all these machines of Howard's…" She looked at him sadly. "Did you wake up out there somewhere all on your own?"

"No," he said, reaching over and grabbing her hand, heart aching at the hurt look in her eyes. "No, I…Howard wouldn't have found me. The plane hit the ice shelf somewhere way up north in Canada, and the heat of the plane on the ice…It sort of melted and sunk me down out of sight. It was a science team studying something about the weather that found me."

"And they didn't tell anyone?" she wondered.

"No, they did," Steve replied. He stopped and took another long drink of his tea again. "This is where the story gets…complicated."

She nodded for him to go on.

"The team that found me…it, when I woke up, it was the year 2012."

Peggy stared at him. Steve had never had any intentions of being anything but honest with her, but he knew the story was a hell of a lot to handle. He'd had trouble believing it at first, and he'd been there.

"2012?" she asked at last. He couldn't tell from her expression whether she believed him or if she thought he was insane and was just humoring him.

"Yeah," he said. "I know it sounds nuts, I…"

Peggy inclined her head. "Well, yes, but…given the sorts of things I've seen with the S.S.R., I wouldn't say time travel falls completely outside the realm of possibility. It's certainly far-fetched, but…" She shrugged and smiled. "You're here, so, there must be something to it. I'm assuming that's how you came back?"

Steve nodded. "That's the short version, yeah."

"Go on with the long one, then," she said. She smiled wider. "There's plenty of tea."

So, Steve did. He told her everything, from waking up in the next millennium to learning about S.H.I.E.L.D., meeting the Avengers and fighting aliens. He told her about slowly adjusting to a new time period and grieving everyone he'd left behind. He told her about finding her again, visiting with her in D.C. and how much she'd helped him find his feet. He told her about Sam and Natasha, about Hydra's reemergence and finding out Bucky was alive. Ultron, Vision, Sokovia… The Accords and how everything started to fall apart. He only touched briefly on losing her, because he didn't want to think about it and he doubted she wanted to know too much about her own death. In between all the missions, he told her about trying to get on with his life, and it was incredibly embarrassing, sitting there next to her and telling her he'd tried his hand at dating, however unsuccessfully. He even told her about Sharon, and that…He got kind of tongue-tied for a little bit and wanted to just sink into the couch and disappear.

He'd liked Sharon before he knew that she was Peggy's niece, and in retrospect, it was most likely because she reminded him so much of her. After he'd found out, it was, well, it was weird, and even though he'd kissed her, he hadn't been able to get past it.

"I'm sorry," he said, covering his face with his hand.

"For what?" Peggy asked, and she didn't sound mad. "Steve, you were trying to do the healthy thing and move on. I'm not going to get angry with you for that."

He moved his hand enough to uncover one eye. "Even though she was your niece?"

Peggy smiled. "Even so. It just tells me you have a type, and, well…" She shrugged, blushing a little bit. "So have I. I tried to move on too, you know. And the men I found myself drawn to, well, they were rather like you."

Steve smiled at that, though it did bring them around to a question he'd been very afraid to ask. "Speaking of that, are you, um…" He wasn't really sure how to ask the question. "I mean, I don't want to get in the way of anything…" Peggy had been happy to see him and told him she loved him, but even if she was seeing someone else, well, there were all sorts of emotions involved in seeing someone come back from the dead that would allow for that. And he _was_ late. "I mean…"

She reached over and placed two fingers over his mouth to make him stop talking. "Shut up," she said. "Before you dig yourself into a hole." She smiled. "And to answer the question, no. There was someone, for a little while, but it didn't work out. If you want to hear the story, I can tell it after you finish yours. But you," she said, moving her hand and leaning in to kiss him soundly. "You, Steve Rogers, are the love of my life. And now that you're back, I don't intend to let you go again."

The joy swelling up in Steve's soul at hearing her say that was so strong that he thought his heart might crack in two from trying to contain it all, and he took her face in his hands and kissed her long and deep. There was something desperate in the way she kissed him back, in the way her hands held on to him, and he pulled her as close against him as he could, cradling her head against his chest. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered. "I promise." They held each other tightly and just sat there and didn't talk for a while after that.

They got up after a while and made some sandwiches and more tea, then settled back onto the couch, next to one another this time, with Steve's arm looped over Peggy's shoulders. He resumed his story then, telling her about finding Bucky, the words in his head, and the fight with the rest of the Avengers as they tried to stop Zemo. He told her about getting to Siberia and discovering Zemo's true plan, the fallout that had caused with Tony, and how much that had hurt. He told her about going to Wakanda with T'Challa, how painful it had been letting Bucky go back into the ice, and how worried he'd been when he left to break the rest of his friends out of the RAFT prison and found out there had been a civil war while he'd been gone. He told her everything Shuri had done to heal Bucky, and how amazing it had been when he woke up and started on the road to healing. He told her about the missions he ran with Nat, Sam and Wanda, still trying to help people even though they were outside the law now, and coming back to rest on the farm with Bucky and the goats in between missions. Peggy had looked close to tears as he had described everything that had happened to Bucky and how he'd started to heal again, though she did laugh at the idea of Bucky as a goat farmer.

Then came Thanos, the war for the Stones and losing everyone. He told her how he'd struggled through those five years, trying to find any clues, anything he could do to undo what had been done. How he'd managed to help a few people find hope, but couldn't do it for himself and his friends, and how much that had hurt.

He told her about Scott and his time travel idea, what they'd done with Tony and Bruce and how they'd finally gotten it to work. He told her about travelling in time, interacting with their past selves, and the pain of coming back and finding Natasha gone. Peggy slid her arm over his shoulders and let him cry for a bit—Nat's death was still raw, and the pain of knowing there was no way of undoing it cut deep.

He pulled himself back together and told her the rest of the story—fighting Thanos, everyone coming back and how they finally won. He told her about Tony's sacrifice, and she held him again and he cried then too. He told her about putting all the Stones back, and then finally, _finally_ coming back here.

They'd talked through the night, and the sun was coming up now, peeking through the window and outlining Peggy's face with a halo of gold as the light caught her hair. She looked like an angel, and after everything that had just happened, Steve still wasn't sure he hadn't died and gone to heaven.

* * *

Peggy was staring at Steve in amazement as his story came to an end. There was still pain in his eyes, burning from the losses he'd suffered and the retelling of them, but it seemed soothed somehow in the soft light of dawn. She reached up a hand, stroking the side of his face and carding her fingers back through his hair. She could see it now, in his eyes and the set of his jaw, he was older, older than the three years since she'd seen him last. Eleven years…She suddenly felt the urge to cry, and she stretched up and kissed him, kissed him long and deep, and when she pulled back, his own eyes were watering, pained and happy tears mingling together and flowing down his cheeks. And she could see in his eyes that he was older now, but she could also see in his eyes that he was the same Steve, _her_ Steve, and those eleven years didn't matter one bit. Because he was her Steve. And he was back.

"All of that," she breathed, unable to stop looking in his eyes. "All those things you've seen, and you came back to me."

"You're the love of my life, Peggy," he said softly. He reached up and brushed her hair back, resting his hand on the side of her face. "Of course I came back."

She blinked the tears out of her eyes and leaned forward, wrapping an arm around him and resting her head on his chest. "I love you too, Steve." She pulled one of his hands up to her mouth and kissed it. "Thank you for coming back."

He kissed the top of her head and looped his arm snugly around her. They sat there for a long time, simply holding each other and reveling in the fact that they were both here, that they'd beaten the universe that had been trying to keep them apart. Eventually, Peggy drifted off to sleep, Steve's heartbeat slow and steady underneath her ear and his arm warm and secure around her, and she couldn't remember a time when she'd ever felt so happy.

She woke up slowly, wondering drowsily why she was on the sofa, then she sat up with a panicked gasp as she remembered why and realized she was alone. Steve was…Had it really all just been a dream? A painful knot tightened in her chest as she stared at the spot where he should have been, her fingers clenching in the blanket that was wrapped around her as if she could hold on to the dream just a little longer. Then something clattered in the kitchen and she looked up with a start, and that knot in her chest disappeared in a sigh of relief. Because Steve was still there.

* * *

Steve woke up slowly, and for a long time, he didn't open his eyes. His arms were wrapped around Peggy, and he could feel her snuggled up against him, hear the soft sound of her breathing, smell the faint scent of lavender in her hair, and he was afraid if he opened his eyes it might all go away.

As the minutes went by and the dream persisted, he finally worked up the nerve to crack one eye open. When she didn't vanish, he opened the other one, and she was there, in his arms, and they had fallen asleep on her couch, and he really had done it—he'd finally come home. He lay there smiling, just watching her sleep. The early afternoon sunlight was dancing across her face, and she rolled her head away from the light and closer to him with a happy sigh. Steve blinked back the tears of joy pooling in his eyes and kissed her forehead gently, closing his eyes and holding on to her a while longer.

Eventually, he sat up, climbing carefully off the couch so he didn't wake her. He picked up a blanket draped over one of the arm chairs and laid it gently over the top of her. Then he straightened up, stretched, and moved to the kitchen. It was nearly two in the afternoon, but breakfast was in order.

Quietly, he explored the cupboards and the pantry, and it was very difficult to learn your way around someone else's kitchen without making any noise. He winced every time something shifted unexpectedly, and it took him a long time to find a frying pan. He set to work cooking, shooting frequent glances through the door and back into the living room where Peggy was sleeping, wondering if he was ever going to stop worrying that this was all just a dream.

The spatula slipped from his hand as he was finishing up and dropped down into the frying pan, and he looked up to see Peggy sitting up on the couch and staring at him. "Hey," he said, a smile stretching across his face just at the sight of her. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"

She shook her head, blinked rapidly, and then that look like she was seeing a ghost vanished and she was smiling at him.

"I thought you might be hungry," Steve said, gesturing with the plate he was holding as he dished several slices of French toast onto it. "Hope you don't mind me raiding your kitchen."

"Not at all," she said, moving into the kitchen and stopping behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. "It smells lovely."

He kissed the side of her face and handed her a plate, then scooped more of the bread onto a second plate and moved to join her at the table. "Did you sleep alright?" he asked, sliding into the seat next to hers.

She smiled warmly. "Better than I have in years. You?"

"The couch is a little short, but…" He grinned. "Yeah. Me too."

She smiled wider, looked down to cut herself a piece of French toast and take a bite, then looked back up at him in surprise. "Steve, this is delicious!" she said.

Steve laughed. "No need to sound so surprised."

She blushed a little, though her smile grew. "I had no idea you could cook."

"You've only ever eaten my food on missions before," he replied. "You can't really judge a man based on what he pulls out of Jacques Dernier's backpack and cooks over a campfire."

Peggy laughed. "I suppose that's true." She took another bite and smiled. "Traveling in time and cooking…you really are full of surprises, aren't you?"

"I am," he agreed.

"What else can you cook?" she asked, taking another bite.

Steve grinned. "Keep me around and I'll show you."

"Alright," she said, smiling and leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose.

They talked as they ate, with frequent glances up into the other's eyes, or quick brushes of hands and arms. Peggy told him some about her life with the S.S.R. while he'd been gone and the sorts of things she'd been up to.

"Speaking of which," she said, glancing up at the clock on the wall with a little smile. "It would seem I'm terribly late for work."

"Sorry about that," Steve said, hoping she wasn't going to get into too much trouble on his account.

"Don't be silly," she chuckled. "You came back from the dead and traveled in time. I was hardly going to look at you and say, 'Thanks for that, but I've got to go to bed so I can go to work in the morning. I'll see you later, yeah?'"

Steve laughed, picking up her hand and kissing it. "You won't get in trouble?"

"No," she said, still smiling. "I think I've used all of half a sick day since 1945. It'll be fine."

"Good," he said, twining his fingers through hers.

"So, what now?" she asked. He arched an eyebrow, inviting her to elaborate. "I mean, based on what you were saying last night, I think I understand what you said about the rules of time travel and all. You did say you were trying not to mess anything up, and since there's a Steve Rogers out there somewhere in Canada who's going to wake up in 2012, I'm guessing you won't be announcing the return of Captain America to the world?"

"No," Steve agreed. If he was going to keep the timeline intact, it was going to have to be a quieter life for him from now on. Not that he wasn't going to keep trying to make the world a better place, but there were plenty of non-superhero ways to do that. And after being at war for such a long time, he was looking forward to that.

"So, as far as the paperwork goes, Steve Rogers is still dead, then?" Peggy asked, something sad in her smile.

Steve nodded and squeezed her hand. He may be dead on paper, but he was still here.

"So, who are you going to be now?" she asked curiously.

Steve smiled at her. "Well," he started. It was a little sooner than he'd planned on bringing it up, but she'd just given him the perfect opening. "What about Steve Carter?"

A puzzled furrow appeared between her eyebrows, and Steve wrapped both of his hands around the one of hers he was holding. "I know that from where you're sitting, I've been back from the dead for less than twenty-four hours, so if this seems way too fast, that's, you know, just say so, and that'll be okay." So much time had passed, the smart thing to do would be to take it slow, spend some time getting to know each other again, but, well, like Bucky had said, Steve had taken all the stupid with him. They'd been apart for so long, Steve didn't want to waste another second of the time they had now.

"I had a ring, you know," he said. "Back in 1945. I don't know what happened to it, and now all I've got to offer is French toast, but…" He smiled and squeezed her hand. "I've been wanting to ask you this question since 1944." He drew in a deep breath. "Peggy Carter, will you marry me?"

She was staring at him like she'd forgotten how to breathe, and just as Steve was starting to worry that he'd jumped the gun, she'd flung herself into his lap with a kiss that made the world start to blur around the edges.

Steve wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back, losing himself for a while inside the rush of everything that just felt like _her_, and when she pulled away to breathe she was smiling, the most beautiful smile Steve had ever seen, her eyes shining like stars with unshed tears.

"I'm guessing that's a 'yes'?" he breathed.

"Of course it's a 'yes', you idiot," she said, leaning in to kiss him again. "Took you bloody well long enough to ask."

* * *

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End file.
